


Losing My Religion

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Universe, Character Study, Choicest (Implied), Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Mention of Past Abuse, Minor blasphemy, Obsession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Twincest (implied), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 16:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17901359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: "He was nothing more than another casualty, a victim of Saeyoung's expert persuasion. And maybe somewhere in the back of his mind, he wanted to forget everything, to erase all of the collateral damage and believe that Saeyoung still loved him." Saeran struggles with his past and the feelings he has for his brother.





	Losing My Religion

There was a day when he believed every word that left Saeyoung's mouth, a time when he worshiped the very ground he walked on—a span of hours, days, _years_ that Saeran idolized his brother. It was a time when every wrong was right no matter how reprehensible Saeyoung's actions, no matter how unlawful his motives became. He was Saeran's ultimate savior: the blood in his veins far superior to Saeran's own despite the inevitable bond tying them together as one, a relationship borne of circumstance and to some, catastrophe.

But then, Saeran didn't need to focus on the keen edges of misfortune because Saeyoung was there to smooth the asperities of adversity. Saeyoung, not only his twin but a boy who wore optimism brighter than the sun itself and carried a disposition with the likeness of a guardian angel. Saeyoung, who spent his nights praying to a god Saeran pretended to worship, a celestial being he _wanted_ to believe in so badly it ached all the way down to the milky white of his frail bones. But it quickly became clear that there was only space for one of them in paradise, and when Saeran tried to join his brother in his feelings of devoutness he was committing an act of blasphemy. Saeran couldn't believe in something that spurned him so easily, therefore, Saeyoung became the altar he prayed to, a church built in his own name.

And it didn't matter—none of it did—because Saeyoung had his back, promised to always be there regardless of the situation or the consequence. He made Saeran a true believer, had him just as brainwashed as the day he was torn from Paradise, the only place Saeran felt he had left to call home. He was nothing more than another casualty, a victim of Saeyoung's expert persuasion. And maybe somewhere in the back of his mind, he _wanted_ to forget everything, to erase all of the collateral damage and believe that Saeyoung still loved him.

But he couldn't. He told himself that he would never fall prey to another one of Saeyoung's disguises, that he would free himself from stitches that his _brother_ threaded with lies, the boy who changed his name and forgot all about the life he _should_ have been living.

Yet, Saeran was never strong enough to live on his own, not really. Something had broken inside of him long ago, shattered the day he realized that Saeyoung wasn't coming back for him. It put cracks in his smile and hardened all of his soft edges, and even that wasn't enough. Saeran had to push his limits to find happiness, had to carry out plans that even he didn't think he was capable of.

He used to stare at the feral moon, ruminating over thoughts no _normal_ child should have. His mind was a dangerous tool that he didn't understand and for countless nights, Saeran would close his eyes and focus on the sound of Saeyoung's breathing while fearing the truth of how far he was willing to go for him.

In fact, subsequently, he would have given up everything just to see him walk through his bedroom doorway again, the same splintered entrance he spent hours appraising with tired eyes. Even if it meant committing a crime as unforgiving as murder, he wouldn't have shown a hint of apprehension, not a single stitch of hesitation; he would have done anything Saeyoung asked of him. All he wanted was Saeyoung to love him, to lie in his bed one more time and make him believe every word he whispered against the soft of his ear. He longed for that _one_ kiss that would make him forget all of the pain and the fear and the deception. So he prayed for thirty-seven days, got down on his knees and called for him. But Saeyoung never came. Saeran's joints were tired and sore, his knees darkened with innumerable bruises that looked a lot like the prints Saeyoung used to leave on his hips.

It was the last time Saeran tried to understand religion.

So when he tore the silver cross from Saeyoung's neck, let the shape of it pierce the center of his palm, he couldn't parse the strange feeling that lanced through him like lightning. He fell to his knees as if the weight of all of the years between them was suddenly too much to bear. There was blood on his lips and the sound of church bells ringing in his ears, and he couldn't comprehend anything but the white slash of a smile on Saeyoung's face — _or perhaps he imagined it_ — because it was gone when he let his head fall back, involuntarily following the motion of his brother's hand as it moved along the line of his scalp.

Memories flashed behind the dark of his pupils and the soft lines of lashes, blurring his vision to an ineffectual haze that left him unfocused and had him fumbling for gravity. Then Saeyoung tightened his grip, pulled his focus directly to that point of contact; and in that present moment, Saeran had never hated him quite so much.

Which is why he couldn't understand the taste of Saeyoung on his lips or the memory of his bare skin on the tips of his fingers. He couldn't bring himself to believe that he fell for Saeyoung's invocation, that he'd knelt on the soiled ground at his feet like he did so many years ago.

But when Saeyoung pinned him to the floor, hands much stronger than they used to be, Saeran could feel himself slipping back into a frame of repetition. He closed his eyes and let the pages of their history imbue him with rage, but the feeling was gone as soon as the spark flashed through his veins because Saeyoung was babbling something that played at repentance, tears catching in the light behind his glasses.

He told himself that he would never listen to Saeyoung again but he had already memorized every word that fell past his lips—and when awareness for the fact crashed into his chest it left him reeling from the blow, unable to do much more than gasp for breath. It was because of that truth that made Saeran realize that he needed Saeyoung now as he needed him then, that he was only fooling himself by thinking that he could forget him, that he didn't need his faith. And that after all this time, all he wanted was to _be_ a believer.

He pressed his lips together and focused on the sting of injury, let the brackishness of copper wash away the taste of Saeyoung. But it wasn't enough to keep his mind from recounting all the years they spent together, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't shift his thoughts to the years they'd spent _apart_. Which is what he needed to drive away the indescribable feeling clawing at his chest, threatening to tear him open and expose his innermost secrets to the one person he no longer trusted—the one person he _wanted_ to trust so bad it achedall down the length of his spine.

He felt like he was drowning, and that would have been an acceptable fate if not for Saeyoung's persistence constantly keeping his head above the water. It felt like he'd lived his entire existence under the control of another with nothing to show for his suffering, from everything he'd endured to everything he'd achieved, none of it was _worth_ anything—not the battles he won or the crimes he committed, not the drugs he was forced to swallow or the lies he was compelled to believe, none of it was worth a damn thing because it wasn't _for_ Saeyoung.

Saeyoung, _his savior_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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